


i can feel you (in the pit of my stomach all the time)

by sondersoflight



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, background Thor/Jane, background Tony/Pepper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sondersoflight/pseuds/sondersoflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a while he falls back into his normal routine. He barely even thinks about that stupid moment of blind bravery that almost ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him. If he has to live with the little nagging voice in the back of his mind for the rest of his life to keep Steve in it, so be it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can feel you (in the pit of my stomach all the time)

**1.**

 

He’s 24.

 

James Barnes realizes he does not know much about love. Like a lot of great realizations that tend to pass in ones life, it happens when he’s drunk.

He’d gone out with Natasha and Clint, after Steve had refused with a gentle smile and a soft “M’ tired Buck” and it was fine. He understood. There was no reason for him to be angry with Steve for not wanting to go out with him and his friends, _evenwhenBuckyloveslovesloveshimsomuch_ , because Steve doesn’t know and Steve could not have any possible idea that Bucky was planning on telling him tonight.

He’s been about to say it a hundred different times, but in each time something has stopped him, either Tony (‘quit doing your adorable routine of staring into each other’s sparkling blue eyes’) or his own damn nerves. Bucky’s never had trouble saying what he means. He doesn’t understand why three simple words are giving him this much grief.

When he expresses this thought out loud to Clint and Natasha, they both stare at him like he’s lost it, though, to be fair he isn’t sure he was very coherent.

Bucky really doesn’t know much about anything, but he knows Steve. Steve is the one thing Bucky has always been good at. The one thing he knew better than anything.

But love has always been a mystery to him. He looks at Pepper and Tony sometimes, and sees how they both pull and pull on each other until they are close to bursting and wonders what its like; the quiet moments, a soft hand against a scarred shoulder, if the tenderness of warm skin alone is enough to glue back together the shattered pieces of each other they’ve left lying around. He remembers their wedding. Tony’s vows had been short but she had cried, “You’re my home,” he had said. Bucky doesn’t know much about home either, except for Steve’s warm hands when he rarely got sick and locking ankles under shared blankets during winter.

He knows a lot about Steve though, knows how his hands look when he’s drawing, and how soft he sings while he is making breakfast. He thinks about the seconds he allows himself to have; to just stare and go in his mind to a place where he is brave and leans over the kitchen table and kisses him.

(Steve doesn’t pull away. He holds Bucky’s face between his palms the way he does with his hot coffee cup on a winter’s day, except infinitely more tender. By the time they stop kissing the toast is burnt and they are both laughing. The noise fills every corner of the apartment they share. They stay on the couch all day and later they meet their friends for dinner, and when they hold hands under the table no one pretends to notice, but they do. They all see the bright glow in both of their eyes; the quiet happiness and the spark of that thing between them never getting old. When Bucky looks at Steve’s sketches the next morning, he sees a new page with just a pair of eyes and laced hands, and realizes how Steve was pouring all his love on the paper while Bucky slept besides him, unaware.)

He never lingers on that place. The fantasy intertwining so fast with the small pieces of reality that he can almost feel the press of Steve’s fingers against his jaw.

But that night, the combination of longing and alcohol, and the fact that Clint and Nat got up to dance and left their cell phones unattended (really they should have known better) makes him linger. He grabs Clint’s, guessing it’ll be much easier to unlock than Natasha’s unsolvable password. He’s right; Clint doesn’t even have a password on his phone.

He goes to the phonebook to look for Steve’s number and he knows he is stalling. He knows Steve’s number by heart, he has for years. When he finally taps the screen his hands are shaking.

The call goes straight to voicemail, of course. Steve turns his phone off before falling asleep. Somehow the mechanical standard recorded voice is less intimidating than his lifelong best friend. After the beep rings, he’s made a decision.

“Hello Stevie, it’s me.” His tongue is heavy and he feels as though as he has to push the words out of his throat. “So, I was just here with Clint and Nat -- thanks for not coming by the way, we are having an awesome time without you, just spectacular,” he pauses. “Nah that’s a lie, you know, but I can’t go into our weird codependency now because I have more important matters to talk about. There’s something I’ve been keeping from you, for a while I guess. I don’t remember exactly how long...I guess since we were 14. We were 14 when that asshole Victor Dreverik beat you up right? He was talking shit and you were the only one who went all heroic, which let me tell you, I know you think was the right thing to do but that musta taken some damn nerve...what I’m trying to say is I lov-“

_Beep._

The mechanical voice returns to inform him that’s as long as he can speak to Steve’s answering machine. That if he wishes to leave another message he may call again. Bucky is about to smash the damn phone against the table. All his courage is gone now after his abrupt crash to reality, and all he’s left with is the buzz the vodka provided and a ton of shame, and a completely embarrassing message on Steve’s answering machine.

“Oh, James,” Natasha mutters as she pries the phone out of his fist. “That’s just sad.”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it, obviously,” Clint smirks, materializing practically out of thin air to occupy his place next to Bucky again. “Be glad technology stopped you. I don’t know how Steve would feel about you dropping that bomb on his answering machine, slurring drunk at 4:30 AM.”

Bucky just lets his head hit the table. The glasses clink and he hears Clint snickering next to him while Natasha pats his shoulder.

-

He can’t make direct eye contact with Steve for a week after that. Steve makes one joke and lets it go, realizing it makes Bucky uncomfortable but without fully grasping on the why. Bucky is thankful for that.

After a while he falls back into his normal routine. He barely even thinks about that stupid moment of blind bravery that almost ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to him. If he has to live with the little nagging voice in the back of his mind for the rest of his life to keep Steve in it, so be it.

 

**2.**

 

He’s 15.

 

He’s been alone all summer. Steve’s parents decided it was time for them to visit family in Ireland, and he’s been freaking out. Bucky’s reached the limit of having his “ignoring-whatever-sort-of-attraction-I-might-have-to-boys” file put in the back of his mind and he’s been working his way around it all summer. He’s decided; Steve is the first person he wants to tell. After repeating the words to himself in front of the mirror about a hundred times, quietly so no one would hear, he thinks he is ready.

Except now, Steve is in the same room with him and he is pretending to be asleep. He can hear the cars outside, the people laughing and shouting, and for the first time during the entire summer he wishes he was alone. He wanted Steve with him so bad. Every time he got a new email, his fingertips ached like he needed so badly just to - but now they are finally in the same room, alone, and it feels like they might as well be in different continents still.

He wishes he was alone so he can cry. So he can be irrational and let himself be childish, to be babied by his mom, crying and muttering unreasonable requests. He wishes his heart didn't feel like it was about to sink into his stomach, wishes he didn't feel like he can't even talk to Steve now. Every word he wants to say is charged with something that’s unfair to him, so he bites his tongue.

After a couple of minutes, or it might be hours, Bucky turns over to face Steve. His eyes are closed but his breath is quick, like he’s been tossing and turning and trying to pretend like he hasn’t moved at all. Bucky thinks of the words one more time and wonders if Steve will ask him how he came to the realization; wonders if he has to lie. He hopes Steve stays quiet, he doesn’t like lying to Steve.

“Steve.”

“Yes Buck,” Steve answers immediately, even with the lime streetlight coming through the curtains, Bucky can see his eyes wide open.

“I have something I need to say.” He practices inside his head one more time and he’s ready, he’s ready no matter what, he can-

“You know you can tell me anything,” Steve replies, and he smiles softly, reaching out to cover Bucky’s hand with his own. It feels as if Steve’s touch is burning him. He doesn’t pull back. He looks down at their joined hands and up again at Steve’s gentle smiling face, like the whole scene is reminding him of how much he is putting at risk.

He’d thought he’d feel safer admitting in the dark but now he’s not so sure.

“I-“ his throat closes up for a second but he recovers “I think I like boys too.”

It feels like for a moment the axis of the entire universe rests in this little room of his mom’s apartment in Brooklyn; right there in the lack of space between Steve’s hand and his. He holds his breath and he wants to close his eyes but he’s not- he’s not ashamed of this. He won’t hide.

“Huh,” Steve answers, and he squeezes Bucky’s hand again. “You were making me all nervous for that? I thought you were going to break up with me.” Steve smiles, and Bucky knows it’s a joke but he wants so badly to let him know if he ever had the privilege of having Steve in such a way he’d never let him go. “You’ve been acting weird all night.”

“I’m sorry I just thought you’d-“

“What? That I’d condemn you to hell? Please Buck, I ain’t no saint.” Bucky is sure that’s up for discussion, but before he can butt in something shifts. Steve sits up a little and leans forward, he presses his forehead against Bucky’s and before Bucky can ask what he’s doing, Steve’s lips are on his.

The kiss is chaste, just a press of the lips. But the warmth of Steve’s hands on Bucky’s arms and the press of his body against Bucky, the smell of his shampoo and everything that makes him so aware, so painfully conscious that he’s kissing Steve, makes the words tumble out against Steve’s lips; _I love you_. They come out as an indiscernible mumble that Steve interprets as an order to pull back.

Bucky’s never regretted saying something so much in his life.

“See? It’s all good,” Steve mutters and leans down again, closing his eyes. “Just like when you had to kiss Peggy when we were playin’ spin the bottle.”

After a couple of minutes, Bucky hears his breathing even out and he slumps back down onto his pillow. He wants to scream. He wants to wake Steve up and demand to know what just happened.

Instead he closes his eyes and doesn’t dare move an inch. Steve’s hand is still resting over his, and he tries to force himself to fall asleep. His heart is lighter and somehow much heavier. Dealing with liking boys was one thing, but dealing with the fact that he’s been in love with his best friend since he was fourteen years old, maybe before that, is on another level. In fact Bucky was planning to file that away and not bring it up until he was 35 years old getting wasted at Steve’s wedding. And then Steve the stupid jerk had to go and mess it all up.

He falls asleep that night and dreams of soft pink lips and tender words that feel like a hug, and acceptance. He doesn’t dare bring it up ever again.

Some things are meant to stay where they start, in the dark.

 

**3.**

 

He’s 19.

 

They just moved in together like they’ve been talking about since they were ten. Two little kids who liked each other and not much else. The apartment is still in Brooklyn ‘cause it’s home. It’s small but it’s their house. He’s left Steve unpacking to go get something for lunch, and when he walks by a flower shop he sees sunflowers in the window.

Bucky’s never been a flower guy. He’s actually never bought anything for anyone he’s dated, but that’s more because money was tight than from unwillingness. For some reason imagining the sunflowers sitting in a vase on Steve’s desk while he draws, as the sun comes in through the enormous window in the living room, makes him feel like he’s ten again. He goes in and buys them and it’s only when he is walking into the apartment that he realizes he is bringing Steve flowers.

It’s too late to panic. The apartment is small and it takes Steve two steps to be at the door, marveling at the flowers Bucky is carrying. He smiles and Bucky mutters something about celebrating their new place. If Steve can see it’s a blatant lie, he doesn’t say anything.

They don’t have a vase so Steve puts them in a glass and sets them in the exact place where Bucky had imagined them to be. It scares him sometimes how much Steve knows him without even saying a word.

They eat and chat a bit about the new shops they’ll have to get to know and continue to unpack in comfortable silence, music playing softly while they do.

There are days when Bucky feels like he can’t stand it anymore. He’s been keeping his secret for all these years. Carrying it around all by himself and trying to keep Steve as close as possible, without letting him close enough to figure it all out. It’s exhausting and he’s scared that sometimes it slips through. However when he gets quiet moments like this, hearing Steve moving in the next room, standing there with all his brawn and heart and loving him more than anyone. He understands why he lets his secret be kept.

Sometimes right before falling asleep he fantasizes about telling Steve. He thinks Steve would let him down gently, but it’ll never be the same again. Unconsciously he starts making a mental list of the things he will miss about Steve when he inevitably loses him.

He thinks about the way Steve bites his lips when he is about to cry and rolls his eyes when he doesn't want to laugh at one of Bucky’s dumb jokes. He thinks about the freckles on Steve's shoulder and how much he'll miss the ticklish spot he has on his right calf; wonders if anyone else that comes after him will know how it calms Steve to be touched on the small of his back.

He'll miss the way Steve gets passionate when they talk about politics and the way he always touches Bucky, so reverently and slow, almost like he is going to slip out of his hands and float away. He'll miss Steve smiling so big under the dropping ball in NYC while making promises of _tomorrowtomorrowtomorrow_ as everyone else kisses the new year around them. They stayed with their feet stuck to the ground, staring at each other and smiling so impossibly hard, Bucky’s face had hurt afterwards.

It occurs to him he is in the greatest city in the world. Yet when he thinks about the Christmas they spent together when they were nine, and Bucky’s parents took them both to Indiana; his small bed in the cramped room, lost in a house, Steve's cold toes pressed against his ankle and his giggle stifled against his collarbone. New York doesn't seem that great at all.

He never voices any of it. Sometimes it feels like Nat, his coworker and his oldest friend besides Steve, can see it sometimes but she sees things in people she’s not supposed to all the time. It feels kind of nice, that she knows his heart is about to burst from his devotion to Steve without him ever saying anything.

He’s made a decision though. He’s telling Steve. He can’t continue to live with him for the next few years if he doesn’t know. He gets up from his bed determined to go and ask him out to dinner. He’d take Steve somewhere simple, the diner they both like so much, and maybe tell him over shared dessert. Steve would make fun of him for being so cheesy, but he’d smile and return the feeling.

When he approaches the living room there’s a slight change of plans. He sees Sam and Peggy sitting on the couch while Steve animatedly tells them about his first college art class. When he sees Bucky, he automatically grabs his arm and pulls him to sit on the table right besides him without missing a beat. Sam nods at him and Peggy smiles and rolls her eyes. She mutters something under her breath, but Bucky is suddenly to engrossed on Steve to hear.

He doesn’t say anything and they don’t go out that night. They stay in and eat Thai food with Sam and Peggy. It’s loads of fun and when they leave Steve falls down on the couch and pulls Bucky with him. They haven’t unpacked the mattresses yet, so they curl around each other like they’ve been doing since they were little kids and fall asleep. As he drifts, Bucky thinks of how stupid he was to think he was willing to lose this. Nothing is worth losing Steve. Not even his own peace of mind.

 

 

**4.**

 

He’s 21.

 

They just got back from Tony’s bachelor party. Both are tipsy and stumbling over their own feet. He’s trying to open the door, Steve is pressed against him, giggling into the back of his neck and Bucky can’t find the right key. It’s snowing outside. Both of their coats are covered in little white frostings, but with Steve’s body pressing against him, Bucky has never felt warmer. It reminds him of Coney Island in the summer, licking candy floss off Steve’s cheeks while he rolled his eyes and everyone staring at them.

When he finally manages to get the door open they stumble into the apartment. They still haven’t gotten around to buying curtains so the living room is flooded with light from the streets. One of their neighbours is playing music, a soft voice crooning about how  _It’s been a long long time…_

They are both resting on opposite walls, staring at each other while trying to catch their breath from their little race up the stairs. Bucky can make out Steve’s eyes in the dark and he wants to say something, he wants to say anything, but he’s scared. He’s scared of opening his mouth and ruining it. Steve leans forward and grabs Bucky’s hand, pulling him along to his bedroom. He gives no explanation but Bucky knows. He’s known since they were little kids. Steve hates the cold.

When winter comes he sleeps with three blankets and two pairs of socks and sometimes he still shivers in his dreams, like he can feel the ice falling outside inside his own bed.

Bucky takes off his coat and his boots and he slips into Steve’s bed. The pillows smell like apples and Steve’s aftershave. When he finally slips into bed Steve hugs Bucky, and the warmth enveloping him eases his breath immediately. Steve’s neck is probably still sticky from the salt Sam had licked off there, but Bucky doesn’t care and presses his face into it.

He doesn’t know if it’s the warmth, the smell of the bed, the feeling of coming home to someone, or maybe the recent realization that he’s grown confident in the knowledge that he might not be right for anyone but Steve.

Steve’s cold toes press against Bucky’s calves and Bucky sighs and whispers the words ( _I love you_ ); lets them hang into the air and closes his eyes.

If Steve heard he doesn’t mention it. He shifts a little, maybe looks down at Bucky but when he sees his closed eyes, he settles again and after a couple of minutes his breath evens out. Bucky counts the time between each breath before opening his eyes again and staring at the snow falling outside, little snowflakes moving slowly in the street lights.

He thinks that if happiness means anything it’s this.

 

**5.**

 

He’s 17.

 

The party doesn’t end until well into the morning. The sun is already up outside as the light finds it’s way through the blinds. Sam is asleep on the couch and Thor is on the floor next to him. Bucky hears noises in the kitchen. He knows Thor’s parents will be back in the afternoon. When he walks in there he finds Steve washing up all the glasses everyone had used the night before.

He’s humming under his breath some dumb song that plays on the radio all the time now. It was playing earlier when the party started. Bucky remembers because he had arrived shortly after and when Steve had seen him, he smiled, like it was the most delightful thing that had ever happened to him. Steve has a way of making people feel that way. He likes filing these little details away.

Steve’s grown a little over the summer, he’s been filling out. The line of his shoulders aren’t as bony as they were before. It scared Bucky at first. He remembers when he first met Steve, small and skinny enough that the next strong wind would be able to knock him over, but still kept that defiant look in his eye, the one that said he wasn’t going to let anyone walk over him. When they first met it had made Bucky respect him, admire him, and worry about him endlessly. Now it only makes it harder for Bucky to pretend he isn’t completely in love with his best friend.

Bucky always remembers how in love he is at the most inopportune moments.

Steve continues to hum and sway his hips slightly, completely unaware he’s being watched. After a couple of minutes, Bucky steps forward and taps Steve on the shoulder but Steve doesn’t startle. He just turns a bit without dropping what he is washing into the sink, as if he knew Bucky was watching the entire time. It wouldn’t surprise him. They are so in sync sometimes that it’s scary.

Steve finally makes up his mind and drops the plate he was holding. He turns around to squeeze Bucky’s hand between his and laughs when the soap and water end up running down Bucky’s arms, but he doesn’t let go at his weak protest.

Instead he twirls Bucky around and continues humming louder now. The kitchen doesn’t have enough space but they manage. Bucky doesn’t know what song Steve’s humming anymore, they are dancing in a terribly embarrassing way. Steve hasn’t let go of his hands yet and he can’t stop laughing. The crinkles around his eyes make him look like his 4 year old self, the first time he got to the top of the jungle gym. Bucky’s heart stutters in his chest.

By the time Steve lets go they are both panting. Bucky’s t-shirt is soaked and his hands are sticky. They can’t stop laughing long enough to catch their breaths. Bucky looks at Steve and he can’t hold it in. It’s been hard, keeping something from the person he confides everything with, especially because every day that passes it gets worse. He’s been waiting for it to go away, to recede, for him to be able to make a joke about it in the not too distant future ( _Hey- Stevie did you ever notice I used to be balls deep in love with you?_ ) and Steve would blush and laugh and that would be it.

But it isn’t.

Bucky loves Steve. He doesn’t think he is going to stop loving him any time soon. Steve is laughing and he is just so- he is so earnest all the time. Steve, that likes thinking the best of everyone even after they’ve disappointed him over and over. Steve, who looks at Bucky in a way no one ever has. Steve, who on some days was the only thing that helped Bucky get by.

“I-“ he starts and his horror at not being able to control his own mouth anymore must show because Steve is looking at him funny. Before he can force the words out from the place where they’ve been lodged in his throat, Clint walks into the kitchen.

“Can you two stop making so much goddamn noise? Some of us are trying to sleep.” His eyes widen when he sees the mess they’ve made with the soap and water. When Steve opens his mouth to answer Clint holds up a hand. “I don’t even want to know Rogers.”

He grabs a glass of water and leaves immediately after that, but the moment is gone. Steve looks at Bucky expectantly for a couple of minutes but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t push it. Bucky wishes he would sometimes.

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t trust himself to open his mouth, afraid of what will tumble out without him being able to stop it. Steve turns around and continues scrubbing the dishes. His shoulders seem to slump a little but Bucky thinks he must be imagining things, wishful thinking clouding his mind.

He grabs the dish towel and starts drying what Steve has already washed. They work quietly. After they are done, they sneak out of the house and go back to Bucky’s, where they fall asleep on top of each other.

Bucky still hears the soft humming as he drifts off.

 

**6.**

 

He’s 22.

 

~~_Dear._ ~~

~~~~

~~_Steve,_ ~~

~~~~

~~_Jerk,_ ~~

~~~~

~~_You really are driving me crazy. You are so fucking stupid. Remember when you got suspended for three days because you punched that Peter jerk for calling Mrs. R an incompetent bitch. I guess you’ve always been stupid, and I’ve always been stupid for you. You haven’t noticed yet or maybe you have, and you are playing dumb because you are too good to break my heart, but I don’t think so. Steve Rogers doesn’t know how to be subtle, much less know how to keep his damn mouth shut. Something I seem to lose the capacity to do around you._ ~~

~~~~

~~_I want to be with you. Seeing you go on those dates Nat has been setting you up with drives me out of my mind. It’s crazy right? I haven’t even said anything. What gives me the right to be jealous? I’m terrified you are going to like one of them. I’m scared you are going to come home one day and tell me you are going on a second date. What am I going to do then? Probably continue living in the Lifetime movie I’ve worked myself into. I can’t believe I’m writing you a letter. I should get a diary and just get over it, embrace this entire thing, and maybe I’ll even get a cat. I’ll name it Roger to increase the creep factor._ ~~

~~~~

~~_I want to say so many things to you so badly, but every time I try to I get choked up on my own words. I guess I know you deserve better and I’m trying not to ruin your life. Or maybe just trying not to lose the one thing in my life I care about. Nat says I’m an idiot and Clint thinks you love me back, but that’s impossible. You are not scared of anything; you would have said it to me already if you did._ ~~

~~~~

~~_I think Sam and Peggy know as well because every time she comes over she gives me these funny looks when she finds me dozing on your bed. My last three morning runs with Sam have been plagued with wiggly eyebrows and bad, unfunny innuendos. I guess you’d think they are funny though. You guys have a weird sense of humor. I think Bruce knows too, and Pepper. I’m sure Jane does as well and Thor probably; he is a pretty smart guy. My only consolation is that Tony most likely doesn’t know or he’d have put his foot in his mouth already. What I’m trying to say is I’m absolutely pathetic._ ~~

 

_Steve,_

_I like your smile; I love it when you laugh. The crinkles around your eyes make you look like you are a little kid again._

_I think a lot about how your legs wrapped around me would look. Especially at night when we fall asleep together and you let me press my cold toes against your ankles._

_I like your hands and how you are warm all the time._

_I like how you believe in people._

_I love you._

 

He leaves the letter on Steve’s desk. On top of his sketchbook on a night he’s going out with Sam and Nat. Steve’s not home yet but his whole scheme works. He’ll read it when he gets there and when Bucky gets back he’ll have his answer.

He goes out and gets smashed, ends up having to be dropped off by Nat who just pats his head and rolls her eyes. When he makes it back into the apartment the lights are all still on, and when he walks into the living room it greets him in silence. The letter is still sitting there untouched.

Steve isn’t home. Apparently he never made it back from wherever the fuck he was. Bucky just grabs the letter, tears it in half and drops it into the trash. Steve probably found someone worthy to go on a second date with. Probably someone worth spending the night with.

He walks into his room and shuts the door, drops onto his bed and is out like a light.

He sleeps terribly and keeps waking up dizzy.

The next morning the trash is gone before Steve gets home. He silently thanks Natasha and then wonders what would have happened if he had an ounce of courage. He doesn’t entertain the thought for long, it hurts like most things we know we’ll never get do.

 

 

**7.**

 

He’s turning 23.

Bucky’s never cared for birthdays. He mostly liked indulging on Steve’s ridiculous need to make everyone feel loved and cherished. So he pretended he didn’t notice the obvious clues to him planning a surprise party or where his presents ended up being hidden, even if it’s always the same place. Steve is painfully predictable, but it’s nice. More than nice. It’s a gentle calm that settles Bucky and makes him feel safe, loved, and all those feelings that people act like they are too tough to crave for.

They do the same thing every year. They meet up for lunch and have their own private little celebration where Steve gives him a very personal and thoughtful gift and Bucky snorts. If his eyes get a little bleary neither of them mentions it. Later Steve picks up Bucky from work and they walk home together, plan to order take out, and when they get there everyone yells ‘SURPRISE!’ and pop out from the scarce furniture scattered around their apartment. Bucky acts surprised, smiles, says thank you and eats the cake Bruce usually makes while Steve beams like it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

It makes him happy to see others happy.

It’s a nice routine they’ve got. The routine thing is something Bucky treasures. He likes having things that are theirs, likes seeing the little pieces of their lives interwoven so tightly that it becomes impossible to pull apart. He’s smoking his one odd cigarette as he waits for Steve, who is strangely late, when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. When he checks the caller ID his stomach drops. It’s Sam.

Sam never calls, obviously to not spoil the surprise party he’d be hiding at, at this hour. Bucky picks up and checks nervously to see if Steve is on sight but there’s nothing. People walk by fast without looking at each other, hurrying to get home to their families. Bucky knows something is wrong before he even hears Sam’s voice on the phone. When he drops his unfinished cigarette he notices his hands are shaking.

“Listen Buck, there’s been an accident.”

Bucky never believed it actually happened, but from there to the hospital everything becomes kind of a blur. He hauls a cab and when he gets there he runs into the waiting room. Natasha and Sam are there. They don’t look too worried but he doesn’t let the hope flare in his chest. He doesn’t really remember what Sam said after he mentioned which hospital they were in. Natasha steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder. Bucky feels how they slightly shake. He doesn’t say anything, just takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, waiting for the words to come out.

“We were going to buy a cake and when we got there he realized he forgot his wallet. He ran out of the shop and told us to wait there,” she pauses for a moment and Sam steps a little closer urging her to go on. “A cab came out of nowhere, it didn’t do much damage but,” she sighs, “Bucky, it was so horrible.”

“How is he?”

“Just a sprained wrist and twisted ankle. They don’t think he has a concussion but they want to keep him overnight just in case,” Sam adds as he puts his arm around Natasha’s shoulders and she looks up at him thankful. “They won’t let us see him until tomorrow though, so maybe it’d be better if-“ but before he can finish his sentence Bucky approaches the front desk. He hears Sam snorting and Natasha saying something that sounds suspiciously like I told you so, but he has no time to mind.

“Excuse me I need to see Steve Rogers.” The nurse looks up at him, she’s an old lady, reminds him of his gran and she looks extremely tired. Bucky’s tension drains out of his stance and he leans a little further on the counter.

“I’m sorry hon’. Visitations hours are over and overnight is family only,” She clicks her tongue and looks up at him, the glasses sliding down a little further down her nose. “Are you family?”

“I’m the only family he’s got left,” He says before he can think it through. “Please.”

The woman looks up to him again clicking her tongue and after a second she nods. Bucky doesn’t know if she could see how desperate he was. Or maybe she could perceive how his life is a Nicholas Sparks novel. How the love of his life almost died without Bucky saying anything to him, in the middle of an airport, while he left for fucking Beijing because he is a fucking idiot. Maybe it’s none of that and just the fact that he looks pathetic, and also probably five seconds away from pulling the birthday card.

“He’s in 3459.”

He doesn’t bother to turn around and say goodbye to Sam and Nat. He just walks forward, jumping into an elevator and clicking the button insistently, as if willing it to go faster with just his mind. When he gets to the floor he runs out searching frantically for the room and when he finally finds it, of course, he fucking freezes before his hand reaches for the door handle.

Of course. What the fuck is he even going to say? “ _How the fuck dare you pull this shit on my birthday...also I love you and I’d have babies with you. Maybe. Eventually. If it was possible. We can adopt._ ” No. He can’t say anything; this isn’t about him and his feelings. It’s about Steve being a fucking idiot and almost getting himself killed again.

When he feels his heart settle down in his chest he pushes into the room.

There’s a faint light coming from the lamp that’s set in the corner and the beeping of the machines make soft noises. Through the window he can see the city bright and alive under the snow. He approaches the bed. Steve is huddled over a couple of blankets. His eyes are closed and his breathing is even. The side of his face contains a bruise. Probably his arm and leg also Bucky imagines. He’s probably on a lot of painkillers to be able to sleep in peace.

Bucky pulls the chair up next to Steve’s bed. He just wants to watch over him for a little bit. Steve sleeps peacefully, he doesn’t stir or snore, just occasionally sighs deeply as if being asleep is actually tiring him out. The soft beeping of the machine counting his heartbeats is lulling in the silence. The room is warm and Steve is right there, breathing, alive, and Bucky is so very in love with him.

He leans forward to rest his head against the mattress and he drifts off, only startling when he feels a hand carding through his hair. He lifts his head slightly and smiles up at Steve. His eyes are barely open but he is grinning. Bucky knows now isn’t the time to argue. Steve doesn’t say anything. He just scoots over and lifts the blankets a little. Bucky discards his boots and coat and climbs under them. It’s a little uncomfortable with all the cables and tubes but they manage. When he’s finally snuggled against Steve, he feels him there and real and warm; smelling like apples and aftershave. Bucky finally lets a few tears fall. Steve doesn’t say anything. He just keeps carding his fingers through Bucky’s unruly hair, he must have been pulling on it all the way to the hospital.

When he finally stops Bucky doesn’t dare move because he knows Steve’s fallen asleep. He’s finally calmed down and so he presses further into Steve. Before drifting off again he mutters “ _I love you_ ” against his collarbone. The words don’t seem good enough anymore like they aren’t large enough to contain what he truly means, what his truly feels, but he can’t do better. He doesn’t know what else he can possibly say.

He falls asleep wrapped around Steve’s warmth as he listens to the sound of his calm heartbeat, the gentle calm that settles Bucky.

Steve’s warm and bright and alive. It’s the best birthday he can remember in years.

 

**8.**

 

He’s 25.

 

In the end it doesn’t happen at all like Bucky’s been picturing it for years. There is no dramatic confession at an airport or last minute whispered words seconds before a wedding. No passing moment of regret when they are both old and fading, as they long for the life they could have had together. Bucky is very dramatic. He can admit it to himself.

It happens like this:

Thor and Jane get married. They are radiant, pushing each other around the dance floor as if they were floating on clouds and smiling so bright. They look like they just stepped out of those bridal magazines Natasha keeps hidden under her “Top Guns and Scary Weapons Monthly” editions. They are so in love with each other, it’s obvious to everyone in the room. Jane is glowing and Bucky remembers time and time again what Thor had said at the end of his bachelor party, “ _I never thought it’d really happened like this you know, when I met Jane, everything felt as if it was where it was meant to. You know?_ ”

Bucky does know.

He’s known ever since he was seven years old when a skinny little kid walked up to him, all smiles and bright eyes and a bruise on his right cheek. He knew when Steve kissed him after Bucky told him the one thing he thought would make him pull away. He knew then that it would never be anyone else. He has loved people before but it was never the way he loves Steve. For years he has learned to live with it. His wanting going almost numb whenever the edges of his fantasy touched reality, like Steve holding him close during cold nights or soft kisses against his forehead in his sleep. It’s not enough but it gets him by. Bucky doesn’t consider himself a martyr or a victim. After all being in love with Steve is one of the best things that’s ever happened to him; it has made him happier than anything else in his life. And really, who wouldn’t fall in love with Steve? Even without seeing him the way Bucky does, Steve is the sun.

He watches Steve dance with Natasha. They are both laughing and it’s obvious she’s leading the dance. The song is slow but they are out of tempo. He keeps making silly faces at her to make her lose focus. Steve has never been a good dancer, but he makes up for it with everything else.

He grabs his cigarette pack and as he gets up, he gestures to Clint that he needs to take a break and walks out to the balcony. Thor has really gone all out with the place he picked for the party. The space looks like a place where a Norse God should be getting married. He lights up the cigarette and closes his eyes, letting the soft noises of the fountain near by wash over him. The garden is quiet except for the rare cricket here and there. He is so far into his thoughts that he doesn’t hear the glass door slide behind him, or hears the steps approaching him until there is a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Buck.” Bucky jumps about two feet in the air before he turns around with a startled look. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Steve apologizes with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and Bucky just nods, dropping his half finished cigarette and stepping on it. He makes no motion to leave and Steve steps forward, standing besides him, their shoulders brushing.

A slow song starts playing and Steve smiles as he lifts his hand up and offers it to Bucky. He snorts but takes Steve’s hand anyway, bowing his head slightly mockingly before letting Steve pull him into his arm. They are not even in a correct dance position. Steve hugs him and Bucky rests his head against Steve’s chest, listening to his heartbeat more than the music. They sway without moving too much.

(Later on, when Steve tells this story over and over again to everyone who listens Bucky will roll his eyes and claim that was not what happened, but he doesn’t know what exactly possessed him – if it was the soft voice crooning in the back, the wedding, the tired feeling of carrying around love all the time as if it were something he should be ashamed of when it was the one constant good thing in his life, or if having his eyes closed and his head pressed against Steve’s chest made it too easy to pretend for a moment they were somewhere else, being someone else’s.)

“I love you.” He mutters. For a second he doesn’t even realize he’s said it, and the second after his eyes pop open. His hands tighten on Steve’s shoulders, wondering if he should let it pass as a friendly thing, but he knows it’s too much to ask. It’s too intimate, too private for it to be said any other way, but the way he meant it.

Steve pulls away a bit, his arm sneaking up and before Bucky can run away, he holds Bucky’s face in his hands and looks at him in a way that makes his legs feel like they’re crumbling. Steve doesn’t say anything. His thumbs brush against Bucky’s cheeks and a hand very slowly slides to his neck. Bucky can’t breathe. This could be anything at all. Steve might be about to let him down in a gentle way, he might be shaken, he might be wanting to test out to see if- no Bucky knows. Steve wouldn’t be that cruel. Not after what Bucky just said.

It happens very slowly; it’s one of those moments where Bucky feels like it’s happening to someone else and he’s watching from outside. As soon as Steve’s lips press against his he snaps back to reality. He is terrified to move for a few seconds, terrified he might startle Steve into consciousness but he can’t help himself. He sneaks his hands around Steve’s neck. He figures he should take this chance, just in case Steve might be doing this out of pity to make him feel better. As a way to make the let down easier on him. Bucky doesn’t really care. If his heart is going to be used as a rag by anyone, Steve is the only person Bucky would ever trust to.

The kiss is chaste, just a press of lips before Steve pulls back. Bucky opens his eyes but Steve’s eyes remained closed, breathing harshly as his hands twist on Bucky’s tux coat.

“Is that okay?” He asks after a moment and Bucky wants to laugh. He wants to slap Steve for asking such a stupid question, but instead he pushes him close again and kisses him.

It knocks the breath out of him when Steve kisses him back. Steve pulls him closer and bites Bucky’s bottom lip and Bucky is laughing into the kiss because it feels awkward and desperate and perfect.

“Why didn’t you say anything you fuckin’ jerk,” Steve pulls away for a moment and then lifts Bucky slightly and kisses him again hard. Bucky pulls away and when he does Steve pulls at his tie and undoes the first button of his shirt, pressing his lip against Bucky’s pulse point.

“Why didn’t I-Why didn’t you?” Bucky’s sentence is interrupted by a noise he is not sure left his throat, though for his dignity’s sake he’s assuming it didn’t. Steve laughs and pulls back, and Bucky wants to slap the stupid smug smirk off of his face.

“Bucky are you serious?” Steve raises his brow and Bucky huffs, pulls him down by the tie to kiss him again and misses, lips landing on the corner of his mouth. “You told me you were into boys and I kissed you what else could I have possibly-“ Bucky kisses him again and again and the next time he speaks his voice comes out trembling. He doesn’t want to think about what he looks like right now. He is probably on the verge of tears.

Hours ago he was just thinking about how Steve would never and how he would always keep silent about this, that it mattered so much, just because he was so afraid of it- and now Steve was here and kissing him, solid and real and warm, smiling and joking and suggesting he had been loving Bucky just as long as Bucky had been loving him.

“You are all I ever wanted,” Bucky says after a minute. Steve presses his forehead against Bucky’s. He is smiling so wide. Bucky feels like he finally understands everything he’s ever been told about love.

“I’ve loved you since I was a little kid getting beat up by fuckin' Dreverik, Buck. I thought you knew. I thought you didn’t-“ He sighs and presses his lips against Bucky’s cheeks again “I love you. I’ve wanted to tell you so many times but I-“

“You can do it as many times as you like,” Bucky says and pulls him in again, kissing him silly. “Punk.”

“Aw shucks Buck, are all these feelings making you a little uncomfortable?” Steve laughs. His fingers dance a little down Bucky’s ticklish side, while he presses his face into Bucky’s neck. Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“I’ll show you some real feelings later asshole.” And Steve laughs again. He pulls back this time and presses his lips against Bucky’s, muttering half sweet words and half insults into his mouth. Bucky thinks, please God, if he gets to keep anything let it be this.

As Steve laughs and pulls him inside towards the dance floor, he thinks he is feeling pretty lucky for once.

 

_When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me_

_All my wildest dreams came true_

_I need no soft lights to enchant me_

_If you'll only grant me the right_

_To hold you ever so tight_

_And to feel in the night the nearness of you_

  


**Author's Note:**

> Soooo this was sort of inspired a lot by [this.](http://thoughtcatalog.com/r-mckinley/2012/12/8-ways-to-say-i-love-you/) Thanks so much to my friend Mel for beta-ing this for me, you are a saint! Any mistakes left are all mine. This is actually the first time I write these two so hopefully I've done them a bit of justice.


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